


walk through fire for you (just let me adore you)

by zanewritessometimes



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: ACAB, Aaron Hotchner is a dad at his core, An appearance of Henry, Autistic Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan is sweet but cannot handle emotions, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Boys!, I'm a bitch for cute scenarios, In conclusion everyone loves Reid, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Police officers are assholes, Spencer Reid with autism is my favourite headcanon, Spencer is THE baby of the group, Spencer just wants to stim, Spencer loves weird looking animals, There's good and bad days, They both love dinosaurs, actually, and that's okay, let's argue in the comments about it, more tags to be added as i add chapters, or hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25436266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanewritessometimes/pseuds/zanewritessometimes
Summary: Autistic Reid and some of his journeys seeking comfort/joy in his coworkers ♡find me/request fics on-tumblr- pennemactwitter- sarinandvanilla (sfw) or prettyboysbeg (nsfw)
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss & Spencer Reid, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau & Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia & Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid & David Rossi
Comments: 26
Kudos: 315





	1. hotch is THE dad, second only to rossi, who is hotch's dad

There's a light pattering of rain outside of the hotel room window, and Spencer is so tired. He has been, in fact, for the last two days, 16 hours, and 43 minutes. 

If Spencer was any semblance of normal, he thinks, he would probably be soothed by the little sounds of rain, but he's not. In fact, it's angering him. It's a constant white noise sound, like television static, but worse, because it can't just be turned off by the click of a button. He isn't even entirely sure why it's making him as mad as it is. 

The sound itself is even making him acutely aware of the way unfamiliar sheets feel against his legs, and the way his hair won't stay out of his face. It's alot, honestly. With every second that passes, the rain makes him more and more upset. None of his usual tactics of calming down have worked so far, either. 

He hasn't been able to read, because his brain felt like it was being drowned out by the sounds of rain against various outdoor surfaces. Music, though he'd never been a huge fan of anything other than soft piano, had also felt as though it was simply accompanying the rain, assisting it in it's attempt to make him breakdown. 

It starts out like this, usually. The discomfort, leading into being easily aggravated, but from then it's everything setting him off. Rain, the constant chatter of a room filled with busy police officers, the ticking of a clock, the texture of his pants, or sheets, or any unfamiliarity. 

He's been trying to sleep for days, but he hasn't been able to. To combat this, he'd been consuming copious amounts of coffee. This had made him more twitchy, antsy, than he had been before. His hands now, even, shake as he throws the blankets and sheets off of his legs. 

The frustration reaches it's peak though, when he has to struggle to pull his socks off of his feet, and tears fall from his eyes as he leans back onto the bed. As he tries his best to just breathe, he remembers how Hotch had separated him from the rest of their team, pulling him aside and out of the crowded room, as if he'd had an innate sense that he hadn't been doing well. 

"Do you need to leave, Reid? I won't make you stay here if it's not going to be beneficial for others or for yourself." 

He hadn't managed to give a complete answer, just nodding, hands curling into his pant legs. "Go with Morgan to the mortuary. I was going to send him alone but the quiet of a car will do you good." 

His boss had moved to lay a hand onto his shoulder, deciding not to when Spencer had visibly flinched. "I am completely serious when I say that you have to stop over exerting yourself. It does nobody any good when you render yourself useless to others." 

Spencer had frowned, not exactly happy with being reprimanded, but he knew that Aaron was certainly correct. 

"Beyond that, though, I understand. I made an agreement when I hired you into this team that I'd be here when you need me. You have to reach out to someone when it's necessary." 

So now, as he sits in the dark of his room, he does his best to remind himself that it's okay to reach out when he needs someone. His hands are shaky as he finds his bosses contact and presses call before he can over think it. 

It's answered fairly quickly. "Reid? What's going on?" 

"I'm- it's not anything serious I'm just… I think I'm gonna have a panic attack and I haven't slept for nearly three days, I don't know how to stop it." 

He knows how weak his voice sounds, and he hates it. His hands clench and unclench in his bedsheets. Tears continue to slip down his face and his shoulders and neck feel tense. 

He hears a the rustling of sheets on the other side of the call before he gets a response. "Can you come up here? You know my room number, yes?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." 

"Okay, come up to my room, then. You're gonna be okay." 

He nods, only realizing afterwards that Hotch couldn't actually see it. He tosses his own phone into the open duffle bag by the foot of his bed. The room he's in is uncomfortably dark, and he hesitates for a moment before he moves to reach into the black bag, pulling out a small-ish stuffed axolotl. 

It's soft, and the eyes are embroidered, rather than buttons or beads, so they feel nice for his hands to run over. The texture is soft but smooth, and he's grateful that it's that rather than shaggy or rough. 

When he's made it up onto the third floor, rather than the second, where his room was, his embarrassment levels had risen and by the time he'd made it up to the door, he heavily considered turning back. 

Spencer's grateful when he only has to knock once for the door to open. 

Hotch stands in the doorway, and this is probably the only time that Spencer would ever see him in just sweatpants and a soft shirt. 

He moves out of the way once he realizes who it is, letting him walk into the room. 

His boss moves in front of him, to sit on the large bed in the middle of the dimly lit space. 

"What animal is that?" He points vaguely at the pink stuffed animal clutched in shaky hands. 

Spencer stands awkwardly across from the bed, his hands fiddling gently with the eyes and the tail of the toy. "It's, uhm… an axolotl. Penelope got it for me cause she knows textures I like and don't like." 

Hotch gently sits back to make room for him. He pats the empty space, hoping that Spencer will take the invitation to sit. He does, watching his own hands as if avoiding looking up at his coworker. 

"Do you wanna talk about what's been happening? It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but it can be a good distraction." 

He nods slowly, tucking his legs in to sit cross legged. "I- the rain. It's like… t.v. static. I haven't been able to sleep because the sheets are so unfamiliar…" 

One hand moves up to hardly brush a tear from his cheek. God, he hates this. Vulnerability doesn't come easy to him, it never has. He knows how tight his breathing is, and that realistically he should start breathing deeper to ensure that he doesn't become light headed but- it's a lot easier to say than to do. 

"Can I touch your hands, Spencer?" 

The man in question gives an affirmative nod and watches as hands slightly larger than his own come into his line of vision, wrapping around one hand that isn't wrapped around the body of a stuffed animal.

"I know it's tough, but can you breath for me? Just a few deep breaths?" 

Fingers flex between Aaron's own, squeezing in what he's fairly certain is an effort to ground himself. 

Tears drop down steadily still, and one lands softly on the back of Hotch's hand. 

A thumb circles slowly in the dip of where Spencer's hand meets his wrist. "I do hate to seem any kind of strict right now, but… Spencer, I know how hard it is to tell us when you start struggling. What I need you to know though, is that when Gideon agreed to have you on this team, and when I made the decision to keep you here, we knew exactly what we were doing." 

A small sob comes from Spencer, and it deepens Aaron's own frown. 

"You are an incredible asset to our team. You are the driving force to solving most cases we come across. There's nothing you could do, or show, or say, to us that would make us value or love you any less. If that means this, or telling us you need a break, or letting through more tendencies or quirks when we're working- all of that is good. You do so good, I jus-" 

He's cut off abruptly when his hands are shaken away and Spencer all but tackles him into a hug, arms wrapping around his neck and face pressing into his shoulder. 

"And here I thought you were always so worried about germs." 

Spencer sobs lightly, tears dampening the material under his face. His legs rest on the outside of Aaron's thighs, his weight settled on his legs. The man below him tentatively brings hands around his back to envelope him in a hug, hands rubbing down to ease the tension where he can. 

"It's- it's so much." 

And this, at least, Aaron can understand. His breathing doesn't even out more than it had, and Aaron would be much more worried if he didn't know that at least in some sense, this would tire him out. So, instead of urging him to calm down as he'd mistakenly done before, when he was less aware of Spencer's diagnosis, he takes a different route. 

"Spencer, name 3 things you can feel." 

Light sniffles come and shaky breaths still echo in his right ear, but he moves to where his mouth won't be muffled. 

"That method of- of calming people down is something they use on kids-" 

"Three things, Reid." 

He huffs a little bit, but obeys. "Your hands." He shifts where he sits. "The- uhm, the bedsheets under my knees." 

One hand goes up to his face, pulling strands of hair back to tuck it behind his ear. "My face is really warm." 

Even though Spencer was right, the method of describing different sensory inputs was something people use on children, it was working well enough for him that Aaron wasn't going to stop using it. 

"Three things you can see?" 

He lifts his head from the shoulder it had been resting on, eyes moving around the room. He looks down slightly. "My hands are shaking." A glance to the left, afterwards, "My stuffed animal is to your left." 

"And your lamp is on, but it's… dim." 

His voice is soft, and it makes him seem small. He feels small too, body trembling under Aaron's hands. 

"Can you smell anything?" 

Spencer moves his head in a gesture of affirmation. "Your cologne." He pauses to pull in a deep breath. "Cleaning products, several." 

He's breathing is beginning to fade into a normal pace, and there's less shake to his voice. 

"Taste?" 

"Mint… my uh, my toothpaste. Coffee." 

Strong hands move up to his shoulders and neck, massaging lightly into the skin there. 

"Hm. What about sounds?" 

There's a silence in the room now. Spencer sits up slightly with realization. "The rain. It's not raining anymore." 

"Mhm. Maybe the universe listened to you, for once." 

He nods softly. 

They sit like this for a moment, Spencer relaxing into the pressure of Aaron's hands, his tears slowly to a stop. 

"Can I… Stay in here? I don't think I'll be able to sleep alone." 

Hotch gives a single nod, but his face is soft. "Of course." 

Spencer moves slowly off of him, fumbling for the pink toy before he lays down completely. 

Hotch moves to do the same, but notes briefly the distance that had been put between them. "You can come back over here, y'know." 

A tense breath was released and it brings a small smile onto the older mans face as he feels Spencer wiggle back up to his side, one arm laying over his stomach and a head resting against his chest. He takes the opportunity to wrap arm back around slender shoulders, only after lightly brushing stay strands of hair behind Spencer's ear.

"Goodnight, kid." 

"Night Hotch."


	2. Spence & Henry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short Spencer and Henry snippet. I love these boys :)

Jj watches with a smile painted across her face as Henry runs, bouncing excitedly towards his godfather. 

He's barely had time to shut his door by the time his left leg is being captured by two suspiciously strong little arms. 

"Hi Henry! It's good to see you too little man." 

Spencer bends down to capture the boy in return, pulling him up to his chest for a hug that could reciprocate much better than his leg could. 

Generally, Spencer very carefully chose and was wary of physical contact, but it had never been that way with his god son, or even Aaron's son. 

He keeps the kid in his grasp as he makes his way towards his mother. "I think this is yours? What's the return policy on these things?" 

It succeeds in making Jj laugh and Henry squeal indignantly, playfully hitting at Spencer's shoulder. 

Spencer grins wide, looking down at the small boy, hitting their foreheads together as he makes a weird face to please him. 

When he's gotten enough laughter out of Henry to be momentarily sated, he turns his head back to Jj. 

"Are you sure you're alright with keeping him overnight Spence? He can be a handful at bedtime." 

He nods, taking a second to take in her outfit for the night. It's a pretty dark blue dress, with thin straps that run across her collarbones and a slit that runs up the right side. Her heels are black and strappy, and they match her well manicured nails. 

"Yeah, you deserve a date night now and then, and you can only tell Hotch that it's just a playdate with Jack so many times before he gets suspicious." He ends the sentence light, with the end of a chuckle. 

The woman standing across from him nods and glances down at a thin silver watch on her right wrist. "Well, it's about time for me to go and meet prince charming." She looks back up and extends her arms. "Come here you little menace, give your mom a hug before you abandon her to go have fun with Spence." 

Spencer hands over Henry, still smiling at their interaction. 

Jj takes her son tightly in her arms, pressing kisses all over his forehead and cheeks. "You'll never be old enough to escape the kisses, no matter how big you get." She laughs out, before hugging him one more time. 

"Be good for Spencer, please." 

She sets the boy back down to let him run over to the mans side. "Spencer, do remember that he's only 5 and that you can definitely say no to him, alright? And no desert before dinner!" 

As she turns to open her car door, Spencer casts a knowing glance down to Henry. Spencer had never exactly been one for breaking rules but… icecream always tasted so much better before dinosaur shaped nuggets and a side of french fries (with some veggies too of course, he was still mindful, duh.) 

Spencer takes Henry's small hand into his own as they walk back towards his own car, and he helps the boy into his passenger side door and then into the backseat from there. 

There were few things that Spencer had flair with, and his two door car just happened to be one of them. It was shockingly uncharacteristic to most, but, he liked it, and wasn't exactly planning on purchasing a different one soon. 

Once Henry is buckled into his car seat, and Spencer into the drivers seat, Spencer starts up his usual stream of questions. 

"How has school been?" 

"Fun! I have a bunch of friends!" 

"That's so cool buddy! Hm… learn anything about dinosaurs recently?" 

Spencer watches from the mirror as the question piques the child's interest. 

This was something that Spencer knew from experience Henry loved to hear, learn, read, and ramble about. It was sort of how the man had adopted it as one of his own special interests. 

He'd become so engrossed in learning about the prehistoric creatures for Henry, that it had been two days into his research and he'd been rambling animatedly about the brachiosaurus to Morgan before he realised that he'd adopted it as an interest of his own. 

It was one of his favorites now, even, because as dumb as it sounded, he had a friend that he could share his information with, and one that loved hearing about it, nonetheless. 

"Uhm… no? If I asked Mrs. Harrision to do it do you think she would talk about them more?" 

That brings another smile the Spencer's face. "Maybe if you ask really really nicely, she'll talk with you about them, or help you find some books about them." 

His hand deftly flicks on the turn signal as Henry starts down a random train of thoughts aloud, one that starts with a story that takes place in the library. 

Spencer doesn't stop him even as they pull into the icecream shop they frequent together, just nods and hums along, encouraging him to continue as he helps him out of his car. 

"And then when I tried to get all the way to the top, Jessie starte- Hey! We're at the icecream place!"

He reaches out for Spencer's hand absentmindedly to cross the street, making sure they both look both ways. 

As they reach the door, Spencer lets Henry push open the door, secretly helping when he has to put all his body weight into it. 

Once they both have their icecream ordered, Henry with a cookie monster themed cone (a true recipe for disaster) and Spencer with a simple cherry flavored sorbet, they sit down together in one of the booths. 

It doesn't take long for Henry's face to be covered in blue residue, with messy icecream covering his hands as well. Spencer just watches and smiles, letting it happen because he knows it would be useless to try and clean him up until he's done with his icecream completely. 

One abundance of napkins and lengthy trip to the bathroom later, they're making their way back to the car and Spencer stops right as they make it there. 

"So, Henry, what if I told you that I had a surprise for you?" 

The boy in question gasps, bouncing up onto the balls of his feet. "Even though it isn't a holiday? Or my birthday?" 

Spencer nods, smiling. "Yeah bud, even though it isn't a holiday or your birthday." 

Henry nods hastily, a bit like an excited puppy. "That would be so cool." 

He clicks the button on his keys to open his trunk and walks around with Henry's hand in his own once again. 

He hears a small gasp from Henry once he sees what it is. The boy immediately let's go of his hand to place his on the giant stuffed velociraptor. 

"This is my favorite dinosaur! Thank you! Oh my gosh-" 

He turns back around to throw himself into Spencers arms again. 

"I know you asked for one that was life sized, but this is the closest I could get." 

Henry pulls back to smile excitedly. "It's perfect! And soft! It's so cool! Oh- does mommy know? Where am I gonna hide such a big toy-" 

Spencer chuckles softly at his peppy antics. "Mom knows. You don't have to hide the dino." 

Relief dawns across his small face. "Oh! Good. What should I name him?" 

Spencer bounces him a bit in his arms before setting him back down again. "I don't know buddy. You should make it super special though." 

Here, and now, as they climb back into his car together after shutting his trunk, Spencer is truly incredibly grateful for his friends and the blessings that they bring into his life. 

His smile is so big that it hurts as he buckles his own seatbelt, a childish type of happiness that fills up his whole chest. There's a moment of pause when he starts the car, but more excited rambling follows directly after it, now complete with Spencer adding in his own facts and loving every second of it.


	3. How the Axolotl Toy Happened :)

"How long has it been since you went out Spencer? Be honest with me." 

Aforementioned man sits nestled on his couch under an odd multicolored blanket, a movie playing quietly in the background. In his right hand he has a mug of hot chocolate, deeming it to have significantly less caffeine affects than coffee. In his left is his phone, and the screen displays Penelope Garcia's contact. 

"A while, Penelope. But I don't do well just out in public with a bunch of people, you know that." 

He hears a sigh and some ruffling around from her end of the call. 

"Well, you can't spend all of your time alone, and I need to do a little bit of shopping today for Emily and Jj. It would be very much appreciated if you could maybe come with?"

With a sigh of his own, he goes silent to think about it for a moment. It had been a minute, but it was so cold out, even supposed to start snowing later that day. 

"I can practically hear you thinking, wonderbread. Don't sacrifice comfort for me if you aren't having a good day today, but I really would enjoy your company," she says, voice gentle but always hopeful. 

"Pen, I'm having a good day. I…" he breaks off to give it a final thought before giving in. "I'll go with you today. But you have to give me more than 10 minutes to get ready, last time you nearly made the neighbours file a noise complaint with how loud you were knocking." 

He hears her giggle with remembrance, and then hears what sounds suspiciously like a car door. "Lucky for you, I'm giving you about 25 this time. And if you would've been faster last time, I wouldn't have needed to keep knocking." 

Spencer stands quickly, throwing off his blanket and all but jogging into his room after setting down his hot chocolate on the small coffee table in his living room. "Jesus, Pen. Okay, okay okay. Let me hang up so I can get dressed," he says as he's already pulling open his closet, hand plunging into his sweaters. 

"Yep! See you soon!" Her tone is ever cheerful and then he hangs up on her and tosses the phone onto his bed. 

He quickly pulls off all of his clothes and throws them into a wicker laundry basket at the other side of his bedroom, missing with his shorts but not caring. He pulls on underwear and then thick black corduroy pants, nearly stumbling in his effort to pull them over his gangly legs. Then comes a light purple cotton long sleeve, followed by a heavier hooded sweater in a plain beige colour. 

Mismatched socks are pulled over his bare feet and then he's moving much too fast for his already low balance into the bathroom, brushing his teeth for the second time today just because he didn't want his breath to smell weird after drinking hot cocoa. Then he brushes through his now long hair and pulls it up with a black hair tie so it'll be out of his face entirely, both because he hated it in his way and because he wanted to wash his face as well. 

Once he'd completed those tasks he speed walks back into his room, grabbing his phone to check how much time is left. 12 minutes. Penelope was never late. 

The converse that he pulls on are light purple like his long sleeve, even if nobody would be able to tell, he still liked that it did. Then he's tasked with grabbing everything he needs. Keys, wallet, the extra hair tie for his right wrist, and then his phone. 7 minutes. 

As he sits down to tie his shoes, there's a knock at his door. Spencer sits back and groans but stands and trudges over to the door. 

He pulls it open with a false frown, turning around and leaving it open for her to walk in. "You lied to me," he calls absentmindedly over his shoulder. 

Penelope walks in and shuts the door behind her, smile wide and cheeks flushed from the cold, bundled in multiple layers to protect from it. "Well, no. I was going to go get donuts from that one place on 8th street, but I didn't know which one you'd want and if I'd gone without you I would've just gotten all of them." 

He's sat down and bent back over to tie his shoes when Penelope sheds her outer layers of coat and jacket and moves to sit next to him. When he sits back up, his hand brushed against her shirt sleeve and it makes him flinch. 

"What, am I on fire or something?" It comes playfully and only a little bit reading. The reality is just that she was wearing a velvet top, one of the few fabric textures that Spencer actually had an issue with. 

"No, you aren't on fire, Pen. Your top just… I don't like the way it feels." 

She looks down at her shirt, thinking about it for a moment. "The way it looks on me? I thought it looked good-" 

"No. No, I mean, you look great," he reassures her, placing a hand on her knee in alternative to her arm or shoulder. "It's the texture. It makes me feel like… You know how you feel about nails on a chalkboard? That feeling?" 

Penelope nods, hand running over the material. "So is that the only texture you don't like then? I've just got really bad luck at picking out shirts, huh?" 

The comment makes Spencer smile but he shakes his head. "No, it's not the only texture I don't like. I really hate the way shag carpet feels, sequined clothes, fitted t-shirts, and most forms of elastic waistbands. It's not just today's outfit choice, I promise." 

He stands and grabs his keys off of the table, slipping them along with his wallet into his pocket. "My car or yours?" 

Penelope stands shortly after, reaching her hand into his pocket and fishing out his keys with a light smile. "Yours. But I get to drive it. You're horrible at driving, anyway." 

She walks in front of him and out the door, and he shrugs even though she can't see it. He pulls on his coat before he follows.

When they're both in his car, Spencer in the passenger seat, they do in fact head to the donut place on 8th, and he orders a normal glazed donut. He gets told that he's boring by Penelope but they both know she's just joking, and she orders a strawberry cake donut that looks like it has a ridiculously thick layer of icing. She'll manage to eat it without mess though, because of course she will. 

Walking through random shops is surprisingly pleasant. The feeling of winter and christmas is pleasing and the contrast between the cold of the street and warm shops is beautiful and fulfilling. 

Walking past clothing, Penelope, already with several bags in her hands turns back to Spencer. "Sort of random, but are there any textures that you really like?" 

He smiles and nods happily at the question. "Yeah, actually. I like corduroy, soft flannel material, or how soft blankets feel, but not the weird soft ones that aren't soft after you machine dry them. There's more than that but those are some of my favorites." 

She looks like she files the information away in her head and they continue walking through several stores until she's bought everything she wants for her coworkers. 

When they finally work their way back to his car, she informs him that it's his turn to drive since he hadn't been walking around in heels all day. 

He gets into the driver's side of his car as she puts her bags into the trunk, closing it with her usual flourish and then walking back around to the passengers side.

Penelope sets herself into the car and turns to look at Spencer. "So… I got you something." 

He sighs and groans a bit. "You know I hate when you get me things. I never know how to say thank you in a way that means anything other than also getting you something." 

She smiles and opens the bag in her hands. "And surprisingly enough I'm just fine with that. But, it's not something huge, I promise," she says as he pulls out a small pink item from the bag. 

At first, Spencer doesn't realise what it is, but then it registers as a stuffed animal, and then a stuffed animal axolotl. His mouth opens a little bit in confusion as Penelope places it in his hands anyway. "I know you've never said you like them, but it's the really soft material, and the eyes aren't beaded so it's not a huge difference in texture. And just last week you were rambling about how nobody gave enough recognition to weird looking aquatic animals and I saw him and just tho-" 

He's smiling when she looks back up at him as he interrupts. "Penelope. I love him. Really. Thank you." He sets it in his lap to lean over and hug her, since she now has a jacket over her other top. 

He characteristically nuzzles his face a bit into her shoulder, grateful for the long and warm hug. He has to pull away to start the car because it's so cold but it doesn't eradicate the warm feeling in his stomach. It was such a Penelope thing to do, to listen to him like nobody else did. 

"You do know I love you, Spence?" 

He nods as he feels the air in the car finally warm up. "I do know, Pen. I love you too." 

He does, in fact, buy her the earrings she'd been eyeing at one of the shops they'd been into. He can only hope it gives her the same warm feelings of love and appreciation as the small gesture of the stuffed toy gave him.


	4. basically, acab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning for ableist language, no use of slurs but there's definitely ableist language

Today hadn't been… great, exactly. In fact, some would say it was quite shit. 

It had started with waking up late. Which, okay sure, cool. Waking up was something that Spencer preferred to have control of, rising with enough time to get dressed, brush his teeth and hair, wash his face, and make sure that he had everything he'd need for that day, but most importantly the ability to do all of such in a leisurely manner. 

Instead, though, he wakes up 34 minutes later than his usual 06:00. It's frustrating in that he not only slept through 2 different alarms, but that he now has to rush to do what he'd normally do with a certain slow ease, because he has to be at work by 07:15. 

When he's buttoning up his purple dress shirt one of the buttons snag, and now it's looser than all of the others. He won't be able to see it, or feel it, but he knows, so it's enough to make him choose another button up. Taking deep breaths, he goes through the rest of his routine quickly. Brushes his teeth and hair, washes his face, puts on shoes, collects his things, and checks the locks on his windows and the back door. Checking the time makes him sigh, but he'll make it work just on time. 

Everyone is already there, which is unusual for Spencer as it's happened maybe once before. It doesn't help that he's called for briefing before he can make himself coffee, or that they're to be on the plane in 20 rather than 30. 

He reassures himself that everything is alright, and that waking up late and not having coffee isn't actually that bad. Having his bag already ready lets him be on the plane early, which helps ease the tension settling between his shoulder blades and in his tummy. 

And when Emily is the last onto the plane, she's carrying two different coffees, and sits one down in front of Spencer as she sits next to him. "It's been a while since I've seen you on the plane this early without one," she says, taking a sip of her own, cautious of the heat. "Didn't wanna break that pattern of yours." 

He just smiles at her as he takes a small drink of his and finds it hot but not scolding. "Thanks, Em. You tend to notice a lot about me." 

She pats his knee gently with a smile of her own. "Of course. Can't have you outshining me in every aspect, doctor." 

With that Emily had mostly righted the wrongs of the universe for that morning. He still goes along with his day slightly anxious though, and is glad when he's left at the police station to look through some reports and talk with Garcia as he did. 

When he reaches an end to his readings, though, he slumps back into the chair he'd been perched on for a while. "Pen, I really don't think I'm gonna find anything here we didn't already know," he groans, before deciding to end their call and call back if he found something or made a connection. It stresses him out, being uncertain about where to go from here. Makes him feel like he doesn't fit into his skin. 

He tugs on the cord of his necklace that sits under his dress shirt. Another gift from Garcia, who for some reason had an uncanny ability to know what he needed better than he did. 

The necklace itself had a cord made out of faux leather, and at the bottom hangs a rubber pendant molded into the shape of a leaf. It's made out of a durable and toxin free type of silicon that's made specifically for him to chew on or worry between his teeth. His coworker had bought it after deciding she'd seen too much of Spencer chewing the insides of his cheeks and lips, or grinding his teeth. 

It had taken him quite a while to use it offhandedly, and taken a couple different nudges from Penelope herself. Now at their office he'll slip it into his mouth for his jaw to have something to work on other than his own mouth. It also helped keep him from clenching his jaw too hard, which in turn prevented the soreness he sometimes felt in his face and tension headaches, which bled into migraines. 

So now, he has it in his mouth before he really thinks about it, trying to keep from grinding his teeth out of frustration. He walks back into the main area of the police station, headed for one of the rooms he'd pulled reports from. When he steps into the room, he's greeted by a member of that city's police force. He drops his necklace from his mouth to greet the man, but before he can say anything, the officer is speaking. 

"Isn't that kinda gross? I heard people saying you were the kid of the team, but I didn't think you were still teething." The man's voice is rough, naturally loud. It puts Spencer right back on edge, stomach twisting. 

He scans over the labeled boxes, trying to find the one he'd wanted. "Uhm- I'm 28." It's all he manages to get out before he inevitably has to step close to the other man to reach for the box he'd finally located. 

He snorts. "How'd you even get in the bureau? Seems like a lot for someone like you." That one hits Spencer in the chest harder than he'd ever like to admit. His little gasp is his knee jerk reaction, embarrassingly enough. He steps back slowly, hand falling from where it'd been raised to skim over the labels of boxes. "Like… like me?" 

It also hurts much more than he'd care to admit. It's something he'd heard over and over, and it never gets easier. His age is reason enough for people to decide that he didn't belong where he was. Add a diagnosis of a mental disorder? That really got people talking, if they knew. "Yeah, like you. You have problems with your hearing, too?" 

His eyebrows nearly meet as he shakes his head, trying to push out the way he feels unsafe the best he can. "I- I'm…" he struggles to find words in a way that's ever frustrating. "I'm not of disabled hearing," he finally forces out in a rush. 

The officer just rolls his eyes and pushes past him, a mumble of "Stupid," quiet, but loud enough that Spencer hears it. He feels stupid, too. His feet stay stuck where they are. God, how hard is it just talk, he thinks, hands coming together to meet nervously at his sternum, cracking his knuckles.

He really does feel like an idiot for not being able to get out more than a few words, and it upsets him in a way that's probably unreasonable. It makes him frustrated, and angry even. As he finally works his way back to the room they'd been given, a tear falls from one of his cheeks. 

It only succeeds in frustrating him even more. It made him feel like a little kid, crying when he was angry, or frustrated, or overwhelmed. He'd always hated how it was his response to so many things, hated how he'd just freeze up instead of be able to defend himself. He knew it was part of who he was. It didn't make him feel any less helpless, or weak. Insufficient. 

He's relieved when he finally makes it back to the room that had been slightly cleared and designated for the BAU's use. He's not as relieved to see Morgan sitting in the spot that he'd been in. Of course he wouldn't be able to come and calm down alone, try to stop crying before anyone else got back from crime scenes or autopsy rooms. 

He clears his throat and sets down the files he'd retrieved as quietly as possible, pulling out a chair. It's a shaky inhale that gives him away, Derek looking up from where he's idly skimming over a report. 

"Oh… Spencer? Are you alright man?" 

It makes his tears fall faster as he falls into the chair he'd previously pulled out, crossing his arms over his chest, wrapping his hand around the leaf pendant and tugging on it anxiously. 

"No- I- It's-" he can't continue. It makes him mad, when he can't articulate what's going on or how he feels. He knows how he feels. He knows that it had been emotionally degrading to be told he couldn't do his job right. He knows he's upset about the way people don't take him seriously because of the way he functioned or acted. Saying that though, getting it passed his brain, is a mess of confusing metaphors and jumbled words. 

Occasionally he thinks it'd be easier to slam his head into a wall than to actually express his emotions in a way that is coherent. 

His cheeks feel hot and he knows his head will hurt from crying later. He hears Derek stand and approach the table he's at, and settle on the table top. "Can I touch your back, Spence? I'll leave your neck and ears alone." 

He also knows that his fist is clenched entirely too hard around his necklace, he can see his knuckles going white. "Uhm- yeah," he forces out, tries to focus on the way that his coworker's hand reaches over him and settles a hand between his shoulder blades. 

"Just breath, Spencer. Don't need you to explain anything right now." 

It's a relief, actually, being told that he doesn't actually need to express or explain. He can just… cry for a minute. He lets go of his necklace to hit his thigh with his fist, trying to release his frustration, even just a little bit. He doesn't stop when it starts to actually hurt, either. 

It worries Derek, because of course it would- Spencer is a member of his team, and more importantly, one of best friends. It's not easy to see how built up and on edge he is, not easy to digest, either. He keeps rubbing circles in between tense shoulders, puts what he hopes is grounding pressure onto his back. 

The hits to Spencer's thigh doesn't stop either. Derek won't touch anywhere than he'd already asked to, so he doesn't move his hand, just sits back a bit to speak. "Will you put your hands on the table? Please? You're gonna bruise up your legs, if you don't." he asks him to do so, gently and from a place of care, not annoyance.

It's true. He's right. Spencer's skin bruised easily, and he hated how bruises looked. It makes him take a fast deep breath and pull his hands up from his lap and onto the table, which he pulls his chair closer to. 

He knows he looks like a mess when he cries, eyes red and puffy, tears leaving angry tracks down his face. His chest is heaving as he does his best to stop actually sobbing, hands gripping the edge of the table. 

It takes several long minutes for him to stop, and even longer to regain normal breathing. He pryes his hands away from the table, swallowing heavily. 

Spencer wishes things were different. It's selfish, and self destructive, and probably (almost definitely) has underlying hints of internalized ableism, but- he hates this part of himself. Some days are worse than others. Some days he feels normal. Those days are good. But then there are days like today, when he nearly breaks down in front of a coworker and gets bullied by some asshole cop for something he can't control. 

He wishes for a lot of things to be different. There's an underlying anxiety that plagues him with his condition, and it accompanies bouts of communication difficulties, lapses of feeling like his skin fits wrong, days where colors are too loud and every room is just so, so fucking bright. It makes him angry, and sad, and like the universe has a personal vendetta against Spencer Reid. 

So now, he sits unmoving in one of those stupid spinning office chairs, and slumps forward to lay on his arms, which are propped on the table. Derek's hand doesn't leave his back, still massaging the area he can reach while Spencer calms more. 

"It's okay, you know that right? To just cry it out sometimes? Doesn't make you any less strong, or… or any less of a human," Derek says, but decides to stop there and go silent again, pets over his shoulders and spine with a warm touch. "Do you want me to play with your hair?" It's something he's done for people he'd cared about before, and it usually has pretty good results, so it cheers him up a little when Spencer agrees. 

He carefully cards his fingers through strands of brunette hair. Spencer has let it grow out for a while now, and it's long enough for him to pull into a hair tie whenever he gets tired of pushing it behind his ears. It's more than enough for Derek to tangle his hand into if he isn't careful about how he massages his friend's scalp. 

Spencer sighs a little and melts into the feeling, finally having regained full control over his breathing, he pushes his breath out in strong gusts, inhales slowly. He's thoroughly shaken up, if he's honest, but it's something he puts towards the back of his mind for now. He'd maybe try to deal with it later, if possible. 

•• 

Spencer doesn't try to deal with it later. Well, not head on at least. He does, however, take special care in how he goes through the end of his day. He showers almost as soon as he gets into their hotel, doesn't even wait for Hotch to tell him who he's rooming with. 

He washes out his hair first, letting hot water fall over his body, watches as it aids soap suds in their descent over his hip bones and down his thighs. He lets himself take time to meticulously cover his hair with conditioner before washing his body just as carefully, doing his very best to relax. There's the beginnings of a migraine swimming beneath his temples, though, so it's more difficult than usual. 

While he's rinsing the conditioner out of his hair, he hears someone enter the hotel room, and from how long it takes the door to close and the light noise of things being set down and arranged, he can tell that it's Derek. 

When he exits the bathroom, he's entirely ready for sleep, could roll into the queen bed on the right side of the room and absolutely pass out, except for that he can't. He can hear and feel his heartbeat resonating painfully throughout his head, now. It makes him groan as he lays face down on top of clean white bedding. 

He lays in near silence for a while, listening to Derek get ready for bed in the bathroom. Once he hears the door open and him settle into the opposite bed, he can't help but ask, "Derek… do I- like, just from an initial meeting perspective… do I seem stupid?" 

Spencer can practically hear the affronted expression from across the room. 

"What? Jesus Spencer, no," he starts, sitting up more as he continues. "You're the smartest person I've ever known. It doesn't matter that you express that differently than other people." 

It settles weirdly in Spencer's mind. It's because he doesn't believe it. "I- I, uh, went to get some files earlier… Just a connection I thought I'd made with names- it wasn't anything in the end but… there was an officer already in the room." 

There's silence from the left side of the room, so Spencer continues, still not looking up. "He… made a joke about how I was still… still teething, because of my necklace, and then he uh- he asked how someone like me even managed to be on our team." 

The silence is loud, now. Uncomfortably so. "Did you see his name? Badge number?" Derek asks, shuffling around some more. "Spencer… You've gotta know that that's bullshit. You're more than deserving to be with the BAU. Fuck, man, this job is low for you. I'm not sure how to convince you of it, but that cop has no idea what you put into your job, or what you've been through." 

Spencer slips his fingers under the duvet of bed, pulling a pillow down to rest his head on when he turns to look over at Morgan in the dark. "What if sometimes I believe them?" It's barely a whisper, quiet and soft, but Derek still hears it. It makes him sort of ashamed to admit it, even. 

"I… I'm sorry that you do, Spence. You aren't anything other than Spencer to us. You're an important piece of the makeup for this team." 

He just nods, mumbles a little, "yeah." in response. It'll be hard for him to fall asleep tonight. He'll get up and check the locks on the windows more than once. He'll argue with himself over what they'd just talked about, try to will his migraine away. 

Today hasn't been a good one, he'll decide just before he falls asleep. But there's always bad ones to even out the good, he supposes.


End file.
